Neighbours
by voiceofdisbelief
Summary: Destiel AU. Dean and Castiel live in the same apartment building. Cas is awkward and Dean doesn't know why that works for him, but it does. A bit of UST, hoping it leads to loads of smut.
1. Chapter 1

Castiel sighed as his key stuck in the lock of the security door. Again. This happened every time he tried to get through the door to his apartment building. He tried turning the key firmly but stopped at the resistance, worried that if he tried to turn the damn thing too fiercely, it would end up broken off in the lock. And that would just be too perfect.

"Key stuck again, huh, Cas?

Castiel's stomach flip-flopped at the sound of that low, smiling voice. For reasons he couldn't quite figure out, his neighbour, Dean, had this uncanny power over him. Dean had the ability to turn Castiel's legs to jelly with a look. He didn't need to say anything. Sometimes, he didn't even need to be present. Just the thought of his lips, curved into a smile, or his shoulders, broad and bare in the basketball top he went running in…

Castiel yanked his wandering imagination back to the present and turned to face the very solid object of his desire.

"Guess this door is taking its job a little too seriously," Dean said meaningfully.

Castiel didn't get it. He tilted his head and furrowed his brow, blue eyes belying his confusion.

"I don't understand that reference," he said.

Dean tried again, "Get it? Cos it's a _security_ door?"

Castiel's looked from the door to Dean's face, saying nothing. Dean flushed a little, nodding awkwardly and lifting his hands, as if the gestures would explain.

Castiel wished he got it. Wished he could say something witty back. Castiel felt a heightened awkwardness around Dean. And when he played their conversations back in his head, Castiel felt like he was watching them in super slow-motion 'awkward action-replay.' Castiel's defence against this was silence. Sometimes he would say nothing, and just _look_ at Dean, trying to understand him. Willing Dean to understand him in return.

Much of the time, Castiel just felt foolish and ridiculously vulnerable around Dean. Like one cold word or dismissive look from him would work on Castiel like a bucket of cold water over the Wicked Witch of the West. Who, a certain musical would have him believe, wasn't really so wicked after all. Just misunderstood.

Castiel usually held his own in other parts of his life, at work, with his overbearing family, so it annoyed the hell out of him that he caved to his hormones when it came to his seriously hot neighbour.

Castiel smiled briefly at Dean, who must have just come from work. Dean worked as a consultant in the city. Castiel always thought Dean must have wielded a lot of power there because he usually went into work in jeans and a t-shirt. But today, Dean was wearing a suit, beautifully fitted and hand-stitched. Castiel didn't know much about clothes but he knew what he liked. The dark grey wool fit so well Dean could hardly have looked better stark naked. His shirt was unbuttoned at the throat, revealing a wedge of golden skin. In his imagination, Castiel followed it all the way down to its logical conclusion. Clamping his lips together to stop from grinning like an idiot, Castiel turned back to the door.

"Do you want me to have a go?" Dean asked from behind him.

'Good god, do I!' Castiel thought, but out loud all he said was "That's ok, almost got it," and thankfully the key turned in the lock.

Castiel pushed the door open, stepping in and holding it open for Dean.

"Thanks," Dean smiled at him and gestured for Castiel to precede him up the stairs to the second floor. Castiel hesitated for a second. The stairs were narrow; they would have to walk up single-file. Dean lifted an eyebrow at him, "If you're not feeling up to it, Cas, I could always carry you up."

Castiel was horrified. He knew Dean was joking, but the idea of his hands on Castiel was frightening.

Castiel cleared his throat, "Even with all those hours at the gym, you couldn't lift me, pretty boy," Castiel was aiming for nonchalance, but he had no idea where the fuck those words had come from.

Dean put a hand over his heart, looking wounded, "Pretty boy? Is that what you think of me?"

Castiel lifted an eyebrow and shrugged his shoulders. He felt bolder now, flirting with Dean a little.

Dean went on, "Unless you have a ton of bricks in that satchel, I would have no trouble hoisting you up over my shoulder and getting you up those stairs. No trouble at all." He lifted one corner of his mouth and glanced at Castiel cheekily from under his lashes. Oh crap. Was Dean actually flirting back? Castiel refused to believe it.

"Very funny," Castiel growled and he gestured for Dean to walk up.

Dean feigned a frown, "Usually I would argue with you until I won, but it's clear you want to check out how pretty this boy is from behind." And with that, Dean walked up the stairs and out of sight.

Dean didn't look back to see if Castiel had followed him up the stairs. In part, he didn't want to look too eager but he also felt like he'd acted like a dick. Out of character for him. He hadn't always acted that way around Castiel. When Dean had first moved in Castiel had stuck his head out of his own door to say hello and let him know about bin night, the temperamental washing machines in the basement and the crazy cat lady on the first floor. They had struck up a friendship based on that and a mutual appreciation of tequila and double-bacon cheeseburgers. They had chatted enough for Dean to ascertain that Castiel worked for an ad agency, had more brothers than you could count on one hand and blushed when admitting that he hadn't been in a relationship for a 'long time.'

They had a very comfortable, neighbourly relationship and Dean liked to think that they counted each other as friends. In fact, the more Dean got to know him, the more Dean wondered how Cas could possibly be single. Cas was a modest guy, but he was funny and wonderfully intelligent. Objectively, Dean could even admit Castiel would be attractive to women. Dean could think of a few who would love to be introduced to a slightly geeky guy with dark tousled hair and piercing blue eyes. When Dean broached the issue of dating, Castiel mumbled something about never really being any good at that sort of thing. He dressed awkwardly and his hair stuck up at angles most of the time. Dean thought that Castiel had given up. That Castiel didn't consider himself attractive enough. Dean had given up hinting that Castiel could snag any woman he wanted. Even though Dean never stopped believing it. Because, to be honest with himself, Dean thought Castiel was beautiful.

And it kind of freaked him out.

It had started about six months ago. Dean had never thought of Castiel as anything but a friend, and he was pretty sure that was how Castiel thought of him. But one night they were hanging out at Dean's, watching Terminator 2 and basking in the afterglow of cheeseburgers, when Dean looked over at Cas, curled up on his couch in jeans and a t-shirt, lips curved into a faint smile at Arnie's stilted attempts to act human and Cas looked beautiful. There was no other word for it. Castiel didn't have an ounce of awareness of how gorgeous he looked.

Dean was suddenly very aware of how soft Castiel's full lips looked and how enticingly his shoulders filled out the worn cotton of his t-shirt. Dean imagined pulling Castiel across the couch and on to his lap. Holding Cas against him, nipples flourishing to buds against his own, his legs pressing against that most intimate spot between Castiel's legs. Castiel's mouth on his. Warm, hungry kisses, Dean's hands on Castiel's arse, pulling him up towards his quickly hardening cock.

Dean swallowed and flicked his gaze back to the television, feeling around nonchalantly for a cushion to rest on his lap. He kept his eyes trained on the television for the rest of Castiel's visit. Dean was mortified at himself for thinking that way about his neighbour, but also struggling not to look at him again. Finally, the movie ended and Castiel got up to leave.

"Thank you for tonight, Dean," he said, rather formally, "but I should go, early start tomorrow."

Dean just smiled and said his goodbye from the couch.


	2. Chapter 2

Castiel lurched out of his apartment and into the hallway. The noise was just a buzz now; he'd had too much to drink. If he stopped now, the hangover might just be shocking instead of life threatening. Castiel reached out a hand and felt for the wall next to the door and slumped against it. He pulled his bodice up and the hem of his skirt down. He hated this French maid's outfit and was pretty sure that no maid, French or otherwise, would be able to do any cleaning in it. Not comfortably anyway. Someone was coming down the hallway; Castiel felt the reverberations through the floorboards. He looked up to reassure whoever it was that he wasn't dead (just dying) and found himself staring at a mirrored visor and some sort of laser gun.

Castiel furrowed his brow; he was trying to remember exactly how much he'd had to drink, when the visored visitor took his helmet off. It was Dean. Castiel's eyes widened for a moment and then he lost it. Castiel doubled over as if he'd been slugged in the gut. Wiping tears of laughter from his eyes, Castiel looked up into Dean's face.

"Who the hell are you supposed to be? G.I. Joe?"

Dean looked seriously offended, "What? I'm Master Chief."

"Master Chief?" Castiel asked, starting to calm down.

"Yeah, you know. From 'Halo'?"

For some reason, this set Castiel off again and his whole body shook with laughter.

Dean folded his arms across his chest, "And who exactly are you supposed to be?" He looked Castiel up and down, lingering on his thighs, barely covered by the skirt and gartered stockings.

Castiel swallowed the last of his laughter and looked down at his ensemble, "Honestly, it wasn't my choice. Every Halloween, my friends and I put a bunch of costume ideas in a hat and we each pick one. This was my lucky year, to dress as an indentured servant."

Dean smiled at him, "I think it was my lucky year," he shook his head, "You look amazing."

Castiel snorted, drunkenly, "Actually, I look terrible but thanks anyway."

Dean unfolded his arms and put his helmet and gun on the floor, "You know what, man, you need to learn to accept a compliment."

Castiel laughed again, "This isn't virtual reality, soldier. You have no power here," Castiel wriggled his fingers at Dean.

Dean had to laugh. He extended a hand to Castiel, "Come on, get up off that floor and I'll help you back inside." He hauled Castiel off the floor of the hall and pulled him against his body.

Castiel leaned heavily on him, "I don't want to go in there. It's too loud and I just want to sleep." Castiel had his eyes closed and was resting his forehead on Dean's chest.

Dean felt a healthy pang of fondness as he looked at the head of dark, messy hair. He raised a hand, intending to cradle Castiel to him, but then Castiel raised heavy-lidded blue eyes and Dean had to stop himself from kissing the little furrow that appeared between his eyes.

"Dean," Cas started.

"Yeah, Cas?" Dean breathed.

"Take me home," Cas murmured, low and rough.

Dean swallowed and he felt a rush of heat and lust.

"Because I think…I think I'm going to be sick," Castiel choked out.

Dean made it to his bathroom in the nick of time. As Cas coughed bitterly into the toilet bowl, Dean gave in and rubbed a palm over the other man's back. Like a teenage girl with her trashed friend, he stroked the slightly sweaty hair from Castiel's forehead.

"Okay, buddy. Get it all out, you'll feel better for it," Dean soothed.

"I'm sorry, Dean," Cas managed.

"Whoa, whoa there, Cas," Dean said as Castiel started to slump to the floor. He dampened a washcloth and cleaned around Castiel's mouth. Cas had started snoring lightly and Dean huffed a laugh.

Castiel looked pretty lithe but he was still a grown man and Dean was a little out of breath by the time he carried him to the couch. Dean tugged a blanket over Castiel and turned to go to his room. A small voice stopped him.

"Thank you, Dean." Castiel whispered.

"Anytime, Cas."

When Dean ambled out of his bedroom the next morning, in search of coffee, he found Castiel sitting on the couch, the heels of his palms pressed into his eyes. Dean just couldn't help himself.

"Mornin' Cas," Dean hollered cheerfully.

"Ohhhhhh, Dean, please don't. I feel like my head is going to break apart."

Dean laughed and made his way into the kitchen. He put the coffee pot on and filled a glass with water. As the coffee brewed, he took a moment to ponder how hot Castiel looked in that costume. Dean had always leaned towards women but he had no issue with his attraction to Castiel. He did, however, wonder at why that little maid's outfit turned him on so much. And the stockings. God, the stockings. Dean derailed that train of thought before his dick could poke a hole in his sleeping pants.

Back in the living room, Castiel was silent as a statue, his eyes still covered with his hands. Dean cleared his throat politely and held the water and aspirin out like an offering. Castiel looked up, bleary-eyed and exhaled in relief.

"Thank you, Dean," he said, knocking the aspirin back.

Dean tried to ignore the way Castiel's throat throbbed as he gratefully gulped down the cool water.

"So, you hit the bottle pretty hard last night, Cas. Quite the party huh?"

Castiel leaned back against the couch cushions, looking more relaxed now.

"My friends and I like to go all out at Halloween. This time it was my turn to host. The pressure was a lot easier to handle when I was drunk. I'm not great around big groups."

Dean could believe this, but he'd never seen Castiel quite so smashed before.

"You don't usually drink that much I'm guessing," Dean ventured.

"No, not usually," Castiel confirmed.

"Well, I wouldn't worry, from the sounds of it, your friends had a great time last night. I mean, until the police arrived…"

Castiel shot up from the couch, eyes wide.

Dean looked down to the floor to hide a smile.

"You really do have a terrible sense of humour, Dean Winchester," Castiel growled, but he was smiling, "I had better get home anyway, just to assess the damage."

Dean nodded.

"And thank you again for taking care of me. You're a good neighbour. A good man," Castiel said rather too seriously.

Dean felt himself flush, "Seriously Cas, it's ok. You're a friend, right?"

"Right," Castiel said solemnly.

For a man wearing a dishevelled French maid's outfit, Castiel managed a surprisingly dignified exit.


	3. Chapter 3

Castiel spent the rest of the day hungover and rubbing gingerly at the spots on his skin that had been scratched by the tulle of his costume. Flashes of the previous night's events kept intruding – puking in Dean's bathroom, falling asleep on Dean's couch. But the memories that made him flush and fervently wish true were the ones of Dean in the hallway. Dean holding Castiel up and staring at him, eyes lingering on the parts of Castiel exposed by the flimsy costume. Drunk as he had been, Castiel was sure he hadn't imagined the ways Dean had looked at him. Hadn't imagined the warm buzz of desire when Dean propped him up and looked at his mouth like he had wanted to kiss Castiel. Until, of course, Castiel had nearly hurled on the man.

Castiel sighed, his arousal well and truly doused by a cold splash of reality. He briefly considered going back over to Dean's to apologise but quashed that thought almost immediately. In the light of a new day, Castiel could believe himself mistaken about what had passed between him and Dean. There was no way he was embarrassing himself further by going back over there.

Monday morning and Castiel threw a trenchcoat over his black suit, pausing in front of the hall mirror to adjust his tie. Castiel wore the same basic outfit to work everyday. The suit was cheap and the white shirt was polyester-bright and a size too big, but he didn't care enough to change. Today though, Castiel opted for a dark blue tie, Dean had once said it made his eyes 'pop' before laughing and running a hand through his own hair, admitting he had just sat through a 'Queer Eye' marathon on Bravo.

Castiel thought Dean was probably straight, but he was a nice guy and a good neighbour and Castiel couldn't help the way he felt about the man. Castiel sighed, shrugged off the self-pity and let himself out of his apartment.

"Fired?" Dean asked, incredulous.

"I'm sorry, Dean," said his boss, Zachariah, not sounding sorry at all, "the state of the economy, hostile takeover, only middle-management has been retained to keep the place running. I'm sure you understand." Zachariah clapped a firm hand on Dean's shoulder before dismissing him with a curt nod.

Dean had been working for Sandover for five years now, in the research and development department. His keen eye and talent for engineering had made him invaluable, or so he thought. Now they were turning him loose and he had no idea what he was going to do.

Castiel finds Dean sitting outside the door to their apartment complex. His eyes take in the cardboard box of possessions and the slump of Dean's shoulders. 

"Dean," Castiel ventures, "Are you ok?"

Dean looked up at Castiel, and his breath hitched, "We have to stop meeting like this."

Castiel's heart lurched at Dean's tone. There was despair there, under the joke. Dean obviously needed to talk, but outside their apartment building was not the place. Castiel reached a hand down for Dean to take. The skin around Dean's eyes was tight with pain. He looked up to Castiel and squinted, as though he were looking into the sun.

Castiel just stood there, hand extended, and Dean took it.

"So that was it," Dean finished recounting his shitty day, polishing off the last of the sandwich Castiel had made while Dean sat in his kitchen.

Castiel stood at his kitchen bench, palms flattened on the top and arms locked straight as he gazed at Dean, "Your boss sounds like an assbutt."

Dean choked on his pull of Coke, "Cas, what the hell?" he sputtered, laughing.

Castiel just smiled.

"You're right though, he's a grade-A, douchebag. Never liked me anyway, I'm sure he jumped at the chance to get rid of me."

Dean grumbled, but, really, he was feeling much better. He supposed the opportunity to vent his anger helped, but he wondered if the listener made a difference. With anyone else, he felt like his complaints were a burden, but Castiel just listened. And Dean tried to ignore how comfortable he felt sitting in Castiel's kitchen, watching him move around preparing a snack, his elegant fingers cutting a tomato or assembling a sandwich.

"I just don't know what I'm going to do, man," Dean continued, the floodgates open now, "I don't own my apartment and I've got savings but they're only gonna last me so long. And I want to help Sammy out with college."

Castiel knew Dean had been supporting his younger brother through school, privately Castiel thought Dean gave too much of himself. Sam had scholarships and he worked. From what Dean had said, Sam didn't want the money and had told Dean so, but Dean was stubborn. Castiel imagined there was more to the story, but he and Dean had never discussed it.

Gripping the edge of the bench tightly, Castiel braced himself to say what had been on his mind since the beginning of Dean's tale of woe.

"You know, Dean, this apartment has two bedrooms," Castiel aimed for casual but, in his head, he sounded just a tad too excited, "and I'd be happy for you to stay here until you sort out another job and place to stay."

Dean shook his head, sadly, "I couldn't do that, Cas. I'll start looking for another apartment tomorrow."

Castiel felt his stomach drop, stupid, modest Dean who never let anyone else look out for him.

"You're staying here with me until you get back on your feet," Castiel said, a note of steel in his low voice.

Dean gulped. Goddamn that was hot. Cas' voice made it a command and not a request.

But the Winchester pride was strong in this one.

"Cas, I can't. It wouldn't be right, taking advantage of your friendship. I can't ask you to do this."

"You can't take advantage if I'm offering this to you, Dean. And you didn't ask," Castiel took a moment to compose himself so that this didn't come out the wrong way, "I want you to stay."

And despite Castiel's attempts to keep the conversation platonic, Dean was looking at him with an uncertain hunger, as though he longed to say yes. To whatever Castiel was willing to offer. Castiel was sure that the look he was returning was just as hungry, so keen was he to keep Dean close.

Sharply, Dean exhaled and broke the gaze, "Ok," he nodded, "thanks Cas."

Castiel smiled, relieved.

"One more thing Dean, I think I might have a temporary solution to your unemployment," he said cautiously.

Dean's face fell a little but he tried not to let it show. Cas was trying to help him, like the good friend and neighbour that he was. He put aside his pride and listened.


	4. Chapter 4

Dean lugged the last of the boxes across the hall and into Castiel's apartment. He dumped it unceremoniously in his new bedroom and made his way to the kitchen where Castiel had a beer waiting for him on the bench.

"Thanks, man," Dean said gratefully, gulping down a third of the bottle before he spoke again, "and, uh, thanks again for letting me stay here."

Castiel's blue gaze was inscrutable, "I'm happy to help, Dean."

Dean hung his head, "It's just…"

Castiel frowned, "Dean, I am happy to have you here. Living alone is hard for me sometimes. I come from a large family, remember? You are actually doing me a favour"

Dean smiled at this but his face soon fell into a slight grimace, "There's the job, too."

Castiel had encouraged Dean to apply for a desk engineer's job at the radio station. After convincing the head engineer, Ash, that he was not 'overqualified' and simply eager to enter the world of radio, Dean had been offered a position. The hours were a little odd, being a newbie, Dean could work the middle of the day, or after midnight, but it was paid work and at least it meant seeing more of Castiel.

Kind of. Castiel was still friendly at the apartment, but seemed aloof at the station. Dean wondered if that had something to do with the fact that he didn't want people to know he and Dean were friends or if Cas needed that stick up his ass to get the job of selling airtime done. Dean had suggested once or twice that Castiel join him for lunch, but Castiel declined every time, citing a busy schedule. It was starting to make Dean feel a little self-conscious.

Castiel took a sip of his beer and placed it on the counter. "Dean, it was nothing. You could do that job with your eyes closed and Ash is already talking about moving you up to a regular daytime slot."

"Really?" Dean asked. This was the first he'd heard of it.

"Yes, really," Cas said, exasperated.

Dean grinned suddenly and Castiel couldn't help smiling back. Castiel nodded his head and grabbed the pizza menu off the fridge, tossing it at Dean.

"Traditional moving dinner, pizza. Pick something you like and I'll call it in later," Castiel smiled again before moving out into the lounge. Dean heard the TV switched on and hung back in the kitchen for a moment. Why couldn't Cas be this friendly at work?

Dean shrugged it off and went to sit on the couch with Cas. At times like this, he could pretend there was something between them. That they were just a couple, sitting around, watching TV. And then he'd snap back to reality, resisting the urge to reach for Castiel. Dean sighed and settled into his side of the couch. Castiel handed him the remote without looking at him and snuggled deeper into the couch cushions. Yep, at times like this, he could almost imagine they were together.

Dean woke early on Saturday, he was taking all the overtime he could get at the station, trying to boost his savings. By two o'clock he had finished his shift and decided to head to the grocery store to pick up something for dinner before heading back to the apartment.

"Cas!" Dean called as he let himself in. There was no answer. Deciding Castiel was asleep or out, Dean put the steaks in the fridge and headed to his room, intent on catching up on his lost sleep-in. He had been living with Cas for three weeks now and it was a decidedly comfortable arrangement. They were both equally tidy, that is to say they kept their own crap out of the shared spaces and in their own rooms. The only source of tension was Dean's sense of obligation to Castiel. Oh, and the sex. Well, lack of sex.

Moments that threatened their happy home were Dean's constant attempts to repay Castiel through things like making meals for both of them or buying all the groceries before Castiel had a chance to do it.

The night before, Castiel had come home to find Dean cooking dinner. Again.

"Dean," he said seriously, after shucking his coat and rolling up his sleeves, "you know you don't have to cook every night."

Dean shrugged, "It's no trouble, Cas. It's the least I could do."

Castiel huffed before he could stop himself. Dean stiffened noticeably, still stirring the contents of the saucepan.

"I'm sorry, Dean," Castiel was quick to say, "I just want you to feel at home here. Not like you owe me anything."

Dean had just narrowed his eyes and held up a spoonful of bolognaise sauce for Cas to try.

Today, however, he had decided that he would cook steaks and Castiel could make one of his awful, healthy salads. They would share the chore of making dinner.

That took care of one source of tension. The other was Dean's tendency to regularly 'wet dream' about his housemate. Now that they were living together, Dean simply could not deny or explain away his attraction to Castiel. He wanted the other man, with a desire that bordered on obsessive.

Castiel would walk into the kitchen in the morning, clad only in low-slung pyjama pants and Dean would have to excuse himself for a quick hand-job in the bathroom.

Dean found himself intently watching Cas eat or drink. The way the other man's lips would move around his fork, or the way his throat would undulate as he drank. Dean just did it without thinking. And once or twice he had to stop himself from pulling the fork or the glass away from Cas' mouth and replacing it with his own lips.

But it seemed a lost cause. Where once, Dean would have sworn Castiel felt similarly, there was nothing. Castiel seemed distant at work and made no attempt to flirt with Dean at all. And it was kind of killing him.

All of these thoughts dogged Dean as he passed Castiel's door on the way to his own room. The door was closed but Dean thought he could hear muffled noises from inside. He raised his hand to knock but was stopped by an unfamiliar sound.

'What the hell is that?' he thought, 'sounds like buzzing…'

Dean's brain caught up a moment after his cock did. His dick stirred at the thought that Castiel might be using a vibrator in there. The rational part of his brain suggested that Castiel might be using an electric razor before countering that with the conclusion that Castiel would shave in the bathroom not his bedroom.

Dean rested his back lightly on the wall opposite the door. Holy shit, what if Cas was using a toy in there. Dean placed a quelling hand on his crotch as he imagined Castiel, slick and open, pushing down onto a thick vibrator. In his mind, Castiel pumped his hips up and down, breathing heavily as he fisted his own cock in time with the thrusts. Dean imagined Castiel's pink, puckered hole blooming around the vibe as he pushed it in and pulled it out. Dean had to bite his lip from moaning, but it didn't work, a sharp moan escaped. But Dean realised the moan wasn't his; it was coming from inside Castiel's room. Oh yes, Castiel was definitely fucking himself. Or someone else.

Dean's grin slid from his face and his stomach went cold. He hadn't seen any evidence of another person in the apartment. No jacket slung across a chair or hung on the rack near the door. He couldn't hear another voice coming from the room, just Castiel's, and just as Dean decided to move off to his own room, shamefaced, he heard a cry.

"Dean!"

Dean was instantly hard again. He rubbed his hand over his denim-covered cock and tried to convince himself that barging into Castiel's room was a bad, friendship-ending idea, before he heard one, last, drawn-out moan and the buzzing noise stopped.

Dean let his head flop against the wall, his dick hard and aching. He struggled to breathe quietly, Cas finding out he was a creep and a pervert would probably be just as bad as heading in there to see if Castiel was up for another orgasm.

But now, Dean had to get away from Castiel's door without the other man noticing. Dean tiptoed back to the front door of the apartment, opened it and then slammed it shut loudly.

"Cas!" Dean called in his loudest, indoor voice.

He headed into the kitchen again, pulling open the refrigerator door, crashing the steaks on the counter and then shutting the fridge door again. Loudly.

Castiel wandered out of his room and into the kitchen, sleep pants hanging only by the jut of his hipbones. Dean forced out a smile and a "Hey, man."

Castiel rubbed a hand over his face and Dean tried to ignore the smell of sex he was sure he could sense.

"Dean," Castiel started, head tilted in confusion, "why did you slam the front door? Did you go out again? You had only just got home."

Busted.

Dean cleared his throat and tried lamely, "I, uh, found a spider and took it outside. You know, circle of life and all that."

Castiel just squinted at Dean as though he were a particularly difficult sudoku puzzle.

"So," Dean started, keen to avoid where this conversation, and his thoughts, might be going, "how do you feel about steak for dinner?"


	5. Chapter 5

Dean had no idea how to tackle his crush on Castiel, so he decided to do the easiest thing, which was nothing. He and Castiel made dinner together and watched TV. And then Dean went to bed and touched himself to thoughts of Castiel. Castiel jerking off, Castiel on his knees before Dean, Castiel's smile, Castiel's voice. Spent, Dean drifted off to sleep feeling vaguely concerned that this was getting out of hand. So to speak.

Castiel spent that night lying awake worrying that Dean had heard him masturbating and, worse, had heard Castiel cry out Dean's name. Castiel vowed to try and forget about lusting after Dean Winchester. He'd already modified his behaviour at the station, so as not to seem too familiar with Dean, now he had to keep a safe distance at home too. Castiel swallowed back a dry, choked sob and pressed a pillow over his face to muffle a groan of frustration.

The rest of the weekend passed without incident.

On the way to work on Monday morning, Castiel promised himself he would get over his feelings for Dean. Dean might be interested, but he'd never be right for someone like Castiel. Or, to put it another way, Castiel would never be right for Dean.

Castiel had never been any good at disguising his crushes and he considered Dean a friend. He wanted Dean to feel comfortable at work, at the apartment and Castiel was sure if he didn't rein in his attraction to Dean, it would drive him away.

Staring out the bus window, Castiel worried his lower lip with his teeth as he remembered how well his first crush had turned out. Andrew had been beautiful. He and Castiel had attended Sunday school together and Castiel remembers looking up from his catechism to catch a glimpse of the other boy, head bent over his own book, curly brown hair glinting in the sunlight.

Castiel had been eleven. And he didn't know that what he was feeling was wrong, so, one Sunday, Castiel waited after Mass. Andrew had been assisting with the service and, by the time he walked out the front door, the rest of the congregation had left. Except for Castiel.

With a shy smile, Castiel had asked Andrew if he could walk him home. Andrew had seemed puzzled, he really only knew Castiel through Sunday school and had never had an actual conversation with the other boy, but he agreed. The two boys set off, Castiel silent, but brimming with happiness.

Andrew and Castiel walked side-by-side, talking about school and church and books and smiling at each other every now and then. At one point, they veered so near to each other that the backs of their hands brushed. Inspired by their closeness, Castiel reached out and grasped Andrew's hand. Andrew had stopped immediately, frozen. He had pulled his hand away from Castiel, as though burned, and started calling the other boy names that Castiel had never heard before. But he knew they were shameful. Among other things, Andrew had called Castiel an 'awkward freak' and a 'weirdo'.

In the way of children, Castiel had never forgotten this. And even when he grew up and out, proud of who he was, Castiel never forgot. In one way or another, it had affected every relationship he had ever attempted.

He had a good friend in Dean. And he wasn't going to risk that for anything.

Dean slung his leather jacket over the back of his chair. Cas had been right. Ash had approached Dean about working a regular day shift. This involved a pay rise, which was a bonus to Dean actually managing normal sleeping hours. And it meant that he saw much more of Cas than before.

Which would be great, if it didn't feel like they had hit a wall. They were still friends; Castiel had actually warmed up a little at the office, laughing at Dean's jokes and accepting with a smile, the coffee Dean brought him in the mornings.

It's just that Dean felt something was missing. He was still lusting after Castiel like a hellhound in heat but it seemed like Castiel had closed ranks. And it didn't help that the station's new hire, Tom, had taken to hanging out at Castiel's desk whenever he had the chance.

Dean burned with possessiveness every time he saw the bastard hovering over Castiel. What he wanted to do was march over there, pull Castiel up and kiss the hell out of him before carrying him out of the station 'An Officer and a Gentleman' style. Dean occasionally wondered how he'd managed to grow a uterus without realising it.

At first, Castiel had simply looked up from his work to gaze a little vacantly at Tom before the other man would smile and shuffle off. After a couple of days though, Dean noticed that Cas was returning Tom's smiles and, yesterday, Tom had taken Castiel to lunch.

Dropping into his seat dejectedly, Dean briefly considered finding out which car in the employee lot was Tom's and cutting the brake lines.

"Hey Castiel."

Castiel winced inwardly at the sound of Tom's voice.

"Hello, Tom," Cas replied.

Tom perched on a corner of Castiel's desk and smiled, his sea-green eyes crinkling at the corners.

"I was just wondering if you'd be interested in having lunch with me again today?"

Castiel wanted to say no. He would prefer eating at his desk, casting surreptitious glances at Dean to eating lunch at the diner with Tom. But then, Castiel remembered the promises he'd made to himself.

And so, he smiled back, "Yes, thank you, Tom. I'd love to."

A/N Did not mean for this to get angsty, not sure where Cas' flashback came from. Maybe I'm feeling a bit raw from season 7 so far?


	6. Chapter 6

"Thanks for a great night, Castiel."

Castiel was silent, glancing between the floor outside his apartment and his apartment door. Which was so close, if only he could get Tom to say goodnight and be done with their date.

It wasn't as though Castiel had even wanted to go out with Tom tonight, but he felt he should. It was the normal thing to do, right? Go and date and send a clear message to Dean – 'Not Interested.' Even though Castiel had spent much of dinner staring past Tom and wishing he were here with Dean instead. He missed Dean. It seemed silly, but he did. Even though they lived and worked together, Castiel waited for those moments they sat curled up on the couch, or cooked dinner side-by-side.

Dean was on the other side of that apartment door. And Castiel couldn't wait to get there. This whole thing with Tom was a mistake. Halfway through a dessert he barely tasted, Castiel had made the decision to tell Dean about how he felt. And now that he was standing outside their apartment door, with Dean so close, Castiel couldn't focus on what Tom was trying to say to him.

"Earth to Castiel," Tom chuckled.

Castiel had to do the right thing by Tom first.

"I'm sorry, Tom," he said, his expression serious, "I don't think we should date again."

Tom was quiet for a moment; he glanced, almost imperceptibly at the closed apartment door. He pressed his lips together in a tight line, nodding a little as he did so.

"I see," he said quietly. But then he lifted his head and smiled at Castiel, who tilted his head at the change of demeanour. "I'm sure everything will work out for you, Castiel. You deserve it, I hope you believe that."

Castiel stilled, he didn't even move after Tom said goodnight and patted him gently on the shoulder.

Castiel couldn't have said how many minutes passed before he unlocked the front door and shrugged off his coat, loosening his tie as he went to look for Dean in the living room. Now that he had resolved to tell Dean, his heart felt lighter.

Castiel couldn't have said how many minutes passed as he stood on the street, in the cold, outside the apartment block. As he'd run out the door he'd forgotten to pick up his keys or his coat.

He had found Dean in the living room. But Dean hadn't been alone.

"Another tequila. Make it a double."

Dean would be goddamned if he was going to spend the night sitting in the apartment mooning over Castiel when Castiel was clearly enjoying himself with Tom. When Dean had come home with hamburger fixings, he'd run into Castiel on his way out. A little stunned, Dean had told Castiel to have a good night before throwing the groceries in the fridge, grabbing his jacket and heading to the nearest bar.

Five tequilas in and Dean could barely remember what Cas looked like. Except that he could, when he really thought about it. Because drinking to excess made Dean horny, and when Dean was horny lately, he pictured Castiel. As the alcohol coursed through his veins, Dean imagined going home to Cas and pulling him into a sloppy, dirty, tongue-fuck.

And then Dean remembered that Castiel wasn't home. So he smiled over at Amber, who had been making eyes at him all night and then he told the bartender to send over a drink.

Amber was just his type. Bottle blonde, tall and curvy. Dean kept reminding himself that she was just his type, even as he held her close and thought about Cas. They managed to stumble back to the apartment and spill onto the couch. In reality, it was one of Dean's more chaste make-out sessions. He kissed Amber enthusiastically because he was worried she would notice how hollow his touches were. He ran his hands through her hair, fingers snagging in tangles and he almost cried out for Castiel. Their lower bodies remained apart, Amber was leaning into Dean's chest, her legs out to her side and every time she moved to straddle him, Dean turned his body to avoid it. He had no idea what he was doing here. As he broke away for air he glanced up and started at the dark shape standing in the door.

"Cas," he breathed.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'll go."

And before Dean could get off the couch, Castiel had gone.

Dean walked Amber out, and hailed her a cab. He didn't apologise, but he gently refused her number and said goodnight. As he turned back to the apartment block, he saw Castiel sitting on the far side of the stoop.

"Cas," Dean began, but Castiel stood up and the expression on his face stopped Dean's mouth.

"I'm sorry, Dean. I should have knocked or called out. Maybe we should devise a system. Maybe not a tie on the doorknob, but something, you know?" Castiel shivered and smiled at Dean before heading back into the building.

Dean waited outside and watched his breath turn to fog.


	7. Chapter 7

Dean and Castiel aren't quite the same after that night. The next morning, Dean tries to explain to Cas that nothing had really happened with Amber but Cas just smiles a tight little smile and tells Dean that it was fine, that maybe Dean could text him a warning next time and he would stay out.

The feeling that Castiel was pulling away made Dean feel sick. Castiel was back to treating Dean like a casual acquaintance at work and was hardly ever home for dinner. Every meal that Dean ate alone tasted like it was flavoured with sawdust and every portion he tupperware'd for Cas just sat in the fridge until Dean gave up and dumped a week's worth into the trash.

Dean would sit alone on the couch, the tv switched on, one ear listening out for Castiel's key in the lock. He'd never felt so low in his entire life. As though his chest was hollow and cold. All he wanted was a smile from Castiel, a look, and he didn't feel like he could ask for that anymore. And he was scared that Castiel would never want to give it to him.

At least they had been friends before Dean had moved in, that had been something, but now it seemed as though their friendship was over and any potential for a relationship, crushed. Dean didn't ask anyone else back to the apartment, despite Castiel's assurances.

The feelings he had for Castiel were still there. In the moments when, despite Castiel's determination to avoid him, they met in the hallway or the kitchen and Dean felt suddenly light-headed. He still desperately wanted Castiel in his bed, but that had taken a backseat to the lurching, clumsy love that had made its home in his heart.

Dean had always thought Castiel was the awkward one.

Castiel woke up early, hoping to slip out of the house before Dean. He made his way into the kitchen, intent on filling his travel mug and creeping off to work. It wasn't that he wanted to avoid Dean, but this was easier. A profound, and ignored, part of Castiel knew that he was making it worse. That pushing Dean away, in the long run, was the wrong thing to do. But it was all Castiel knew. To keep Dean close would hurt much more than losing him now.

"Cas?"

Cas let his head drop for a moment.

"Good morning, Dean."

Sunlight was only beginning to stream into the apartment and it picked out the golden glint of Dean's hair. Castiel lost himself in the halo for a moment until Dean cleared his throat.

"I…uh…I've found another place. I'll be moving out at the end of the week."

Castiel just nodded and kept his eyes trained above Dean's head.

"Cas?" Dean ventured, "If you want me to stay, I can…I mean…"

"I will go down to the basement tonight and bring up some of the packing boxes."

Dean looked at Castiel, concerned.

"I don't have to go, Cas. If you don't want me to."

Castiel finally met Dean's gaze.

"I think it's probably for the best. I will see you at work, Dean."

Dean heard the soft click of the front door and rested his forehead on the cool, white surface of the refrigerator.

It was one of the worst days of Castiel's life. He went through the day by rote, ate a lunch he couldn't taste and typed email replies he could barely remember five seconds after pressing 'send'. Life before Dean hadn't been perfect, by any stretch, but he had never felt so stricken in all his life He had been content, the achingly dull kind of content that anaesthetises even the most romantic of people. And now Dean Winchester had ruined it all. He had crept up on Castiel and invaded his every notable moment. Everything memorable, he wanted to share with Dean. Anything that made him laugh or caught his eye.

Castiel wanted Dean and no one else. He thought only of Dean when he touched himself. The toys he used were not sterile rubber and latex, but Dean's velvety hardness. The throaty voice in his head that urged him on, called him 'Cas', was Dean's.

But it was always going to be more than just sex for Castiel. The way Dean smiled and joked and tried to lighten Castiel's days were more precious than anything else. Castiel thought he could make it if he had Dean there, standing by his side.

Castiel walked home that night, foregoing the bus. The longer his journey home, the less time he had to spend in the apartment with Dean. The apartment in which he would soon be living alone. Again.

The security door swung open with a little coaxing and Castiel made his way up the stairs. A chuckle escaped before he could stop it when he remembered Dean's offer to carry him up to their floor. These were the memories he would keep with him when Dean was gone. Castiel would still see Dean at work but he was getting better at keeping his distance at the office. He would never have to see Dean bring home another woman or, better yet, look into Dean's sleepy, green eyes of a morning.

Feeling morose, Castiel let himself into the apartment and sniffed the air appreciatively; warm bread and the rich scent of cooking meat. His stomach grumbled as he realised Dean must have made hamburgers.

The walk from the hallway to the kitchen was a short one and Castiel turned the corner into the kitchen, stopping dead at the sight before him.

Dean was wearing a French maid's outfit. Specifically, the French maid's outfit that Castiel had worn at Halloween.

The black satin fabric stretched across Dean's broad shoulders, the frilly white cap sleeves failing to emasculate him. His tanned and muscular physique made the outfit obscenely sexy. Dean was leaning over, pulling a tray out of the oven and Castiel caught a glimpse of white tulle barely covering Dean's lean ass. For a crazy moment, Castiel wondered if Dean was wearing the stockings too.

Dean lifted himself up slowly, placing the tray on the counter and turning to face Castiel.

"Welcome home, Cas."

Dumbstruck, Castiel could only stare.

"I cleaned up a little, made some dinner and, after that…uh, maybe I could bring you a drink in the lounge."

Castiel felt like he had been dropped in an alternate universe.

"Dean, what is happening here?"

Dean shrugged and raised his hands, palms up; "I just want to repay you for your kindness, Cas. Letting me stay here, finding me a job. You've been a great friend."

Taken aback by the edge of bitterness in Dean's tone, Castiel frowns.

"I don't understand."

"You've been such a good friend and neighbour," Dean reiterated, "and now, you're done with me. Time for me to move on, right?"

"Have you lost your mind, Dean?" Castiel choked out.

"No, Cas, definitely not. You've been avoiding me these last few weeks so I figure that's it, Elvis has left the building."

Without breaking eye contact, Dean moved from behind the counter to stand directly in front of Castiel.

"And I know you want me, Cas. I see how you look at me, I heard you call my name when you came."

Cas fired up then, grabbing Dean's wrist, "So this is how you repay me for inviting you into my house, Dean? This is what you think of our friendship. You're going to whore yourself around here in your last week…for what?"

Dean had the good grace to look ashamed at this, but Castiel wasn't finished. His eyes flashed and he gripped Dean more tightly.

"I don't want you to feel 'obliged' to fuck me, Dean. And believe me, I've wanted this for a while. Before you lost your job, before the night I got drunk and you took me to your place."

Dean's brain had stopped processing much above basic bodily functions and the sight of Castiel's flashing eyes and pink, pink mouth moving in front of him.

Castiel went on, "That morning I woke up and wanted nothing more than to crawl into your bed and wake you with my mouth. But I was way too…hungover. And I was scared Dean. Scared of what you would think, scared of how much I wanted you."

Dean was fully hard now, but Castiel's words penetrated that flood of hormones and, before he knew it, Dean was cupping Castiel's jaw and pressing their lips together. He thought he heard Castiel whimper, but he focused on kissing him. Telling him, without words, all that he needed Castiel to know.

But not using his words is kind of what landed Dean in this mess in the first place.

"Cas, how the hell could you miss this? The only reason I notice you looking at me is cos I'm looking too. And yes, I heard you call out my name. But you have never heard me because every single time I come, I muffle yours with my pillow. Every single goddamn time, Cas."

Castiel looked bewildered but his eyes shone. Curling his fingers around Dean's nape, he drew him in for another kiss, this one full of relief and something he couldn't name but that would stand them in good stead for the rest of their lives.

The oven timer dinged and was ignored as Dean and Castiel continued making out in the kitchen. Slowly their touches became bolder, their tongues, so tentative at first, met and parried. Their moans were honest and soft, reflecting amazement at something they had denied themselves for so long.

"Cas?"

"Mmmm?" Castiel rested his forehead against Dean's, his eyes closed in contentment.

"How the hell did you wear this costume for a whole night? It's itchy as hell."

Castiel threw his head back and laughed. Dean grinned at him.

"I had scratches for days," Castiel said, when he had calmed down.

"So, I had better take it off soon, right?" Dean smirked.

Castiel reached under the skirt of the costume and manhandled Dean, pressing him against the bench and pinning him with his hips. He reached under the skirt and palmed Dean's cock through his briefs.

"I don't know," he breathed into Dean's mouth, "I like that look on you."

Dean gasped as Cas massaged his dick, the tips of nimble fingers caressing his balls. His writhing caused the seams of the bodice to rasp against his nipples and he brought his hands up to repeat the sensation.

"God, Dean," Cas gasped and dropped to his knees. His dark head disappeared under a cloud of tulle and Dean felt him mouth his cock through the fabric of his underwear.

"Cas!" Dean placed a hand on the back of Castiel's head, pushing lightly.

Castiel curled his fingers in the waistband of Dean's briefs and pulled them down his legs. He held them so Dean could step out of them before ducking back under the skirt and taking Dean in his mouth, suckling the head like he had suckled Dean's tongue only minutes before.

Dean leaned back against the cool granite of the bench, barely believing that Castiel was kneeling in front of him. His fantasies had not prepared him for the feel of Cas' wet, warm mouth or the desperate rush of love he felt.

His head dropped back as Castiel sucked without pause and it took all his willpower to coax Castiel back up to eye level.

"Your bed, now," Dean managed between kisses, intoxicated by the taste of himself on Castiel's tongue.

Castiel pulled Dean away from the bench and pushed him down the hall towards the bedroom, "Go ahead of me, I want to enjoy the view."

Dean's smug smile said, "I told you so."

At the door to Castiel's room, Dean stopped, causing Castiel to run into him from behind. Castiel slipped his hands around to Dean's stomach and Dean reached a hand back to stroke Castiel's hair.

"Goddamit Cas, I can't believe we're finally doing this."

Castiel nosed behind Dean's ear and placed a soft kiss on his neck.

"Thank you, Dean."

Dean turned in Castiel's arms and looked him in the eye.

"For what?"

"For moving into this apartment building, for just being you. I wish I had been brave enough to tell you how I felt earlier."

Dean snorted, "Can you imagine how much sex we could have had by now?"

Castiel laughed softly, "I'm technically a qualified accountant, Dean. I can do the math."

"Depressing, huh?"

"Not in the slightest."

"Uh, Cas. I wanna tell you. I almost went Glenn Close on Tom for a while there, when you started dating him."

Castiel ran a finger down Dean's cheek, "The whole time I was with Tom, I thought of you, Dean. It's been only you for some time now."

For a moment, Dean and Castiel just looked at each other. The intensity of their gaze mimicking the heat that awaited them as soon as they moved on to the bed.

Dean pushed Castiel down to sit on the edge of the bed, and, for a moment, just let his eyes run over the other man's face, as though memorising it. He unbuttoned Castiel's shirt slowly, taking his time on the buttons before pushing the material off his shoulders and bringing his mouth down to Castiel's neck.

Every gasp and moan drove Dean to mark Castiel harder. Fumbling, Castiel managed to remove his slacks, finally fully naked to Dean's touch. He moved to unzip Dean from the maid's outfit.

"Leave it," Dean's voice was breathy with arousal.

Cas bit back a groan and lay back on the bed, pulling Dean down on top of him. Dean straddled Castiel's hips, rubbing their cocks together briefly before asking Castiel where he kept the lube.

Castiel trailed wet fingers down the cleft of Dean's ass before briefly touching the tight ring of muscle. Feeling Dean clench, Castiel ran a soothing hand down his chest and took Dean's cock in his fist.

Castiel pressed a fingertip to Dean's entrance and gently breached it. Dean's breath hitched but he moved his hips up and down. Swapping between lush kisses and working Dean's cock with his hand, Castiel managed four fingers, stretching Dean and getting him used to the feeling of fullness.

Dean leaned over to thrust his tongue into Castiel's mouth, feeling the press of Cas' smooth warm skin against his own. He reached behind and pushed Castiel's hand away from his ass, grasping the other man's cock and sliding on to it, one centimetre at a time. Castiel's eyes never left his, and when Dean was fully seated, Castiel's eyelids fell briefly before his crystal blue eyes met Dean's and he started to thrust.

At first, Dean was happy to let Castiel take the lead, but, before long, Dean was riding Castiel's cock hard, rolling his hips in big circles. The white tulle of his costume scratched Cas' smooth skin and the texture added another layer to their coupling. Cas reached up and yanked the bodice of the costume down to Dean's waist and roughly thumbed his nipples, eliciting a sharp moan from the other man.

Dean was lost to everything except the incredible feeling of Castiel inside him, Castiel's eyes on his and the sense that he would never get enough of this. But he'd be goddamned if he'd stop trying.

When he came, it was with a drawn-out moan that sounded like his lover's name.

Castiel came moments after, easing out of Dean and drawing the other man to him, away from the now damp sheets.

Dean lay across him, exhausted, and just before he fell asleep, Cas heard him say, "It really is better when you love the other person."

Castiel was glad Dean wasn't awake to see him cry.

Six months later

That was it. Dean was moving them to another apartment building as soon as they could afford it. The security door in this place was actually driving him insane. Mainly because every second he spent trying to open it was a second he could be with Castiel.

"Fucking door…fuck!" Dean exclaimed, almost falling through the now open door.

Castiel, holding it open from the inside, raised an eyebrow, "Aw, poor baby, want me to carry you up the stairs?"

"Screw you, Cas," Dean said gruffly, pulling his boyfriend in for a kiss.

"You'd better," Castiel was getting better and better at sexual innuendo every day. Dean couldn't have been prouder.

As Dean headed up the stairs to their apartment, Castiel shut the security door and paused, thinking about how his life had changed. It wasn't always easy, living with Dean, and he was pretty sure life with him was no picnic for Dean, but Castiel had never been happier. He would go through all the awkward moments, all the pain, a hundred times, just to have this.

Castiel followed the love of his life up the narrow stairs and into their home.

_A/N – That's it! Last chapter Thank you so much to all those who read and reviewed. _


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